No worries, my friend
by TheInsomniacWriter
Summary: Short one-shot about Prompto's self-mutilation issue and Noctis finding out. Trigger Warning: self-harm.


Prompto breathed in the muggy and salty evening Lestallum air. He never thought he'd be back here, seeing as they were supposed to take the royal vessel to Altissia. But, here they were, taking a well-deserved weekend off hunting.

The four decided they needed to take some time off, with Prompto's happy mood now stale as old bread and Noctis complaining about his back from sleeping on the ground every night. Ignis did not complain, but was more than happy to stay for a few nights and try out several new Lestallum dishes - heck, even make some himself with the local ingredients on their market.

As they checked into their apartment, Gladio decided to hit the bar. He winked at the others before closing the door behind him, which earned him an eyeroll from Ignis. Everyone knew what that wink meant and it always made the two youngest friends shudder. Ignis excused himself and headed to the market, which meant he wouldn't be back for a few hours. He really loved his ingredients.

It made Prompto a bit on edge, knowing Noctis would still be around and wouldn't be sleeping for a while either. A new update of their favourite mobile game got released, so no doubt Noctis would want to play it with him. Surely enough, Prompto tried his best to say no, he needed the alone time. The King however, wouldn't let him. He's been watching his friend's steady decline in his mood and had been keeping an eye on him.

"Noct, I'm really tired. I might call it a night. W-we can play some more tomorrow?" His leg twitched as he spoke and his friend's eyes dropped to said leg immediately. Something was off, but whenever the King asked if he was alright, he'd tell him not to worry.

"I eh, guess yeah. Alright." Prompto realised he was twitching and immediately stopped himself and got up.

"Dibs on the shower, haha." He really did try to sound cheery, but with the whole fall of Insomnia - he just couldn't. It wasn't like he mourned for his parents, who resided there at the time. No, he mourned for the city, the memories and the innocent lives lost. He closed the bathroom door behind him and checked himself out in the mirror, brushing a stranded hair out of his face. He moved his vest aside to check out his collar bone. The scar was still visible as light of day and with a sigh, he covered it back up. The scar didn't hurt, it was old. His parents weren't... particularly picture-perfect. His mother never wanted children, but his father did. When they took him in around age three, he'd be constantly reminded of how unwanted he was. He learnt things the hard way.

Prompto opened the shower door and ran the tab. He quietly closed the door again and sat down on the toilet lid. He hadn't felt anything lately, no sadness, no happiness... no anger. He almost felt like he didn't exist, and there was only one thing that could make him feel alive. Yes, it was a terrible habit. But the endorphins made him feel, something that he's missed for so long.

The blond took his switchblade from his pants pocket and flicked it open. It had gotten a little rusty after a large number of uses, but it was still sharp and reliable. He unwrapped his bandanna and tied it around his lower arm, to stop the blood flow. His heartrate picked up as if his body tried to tell him not to do it. He wouldn't ever listen, though. He moved his bracelet and placed the silver blade carefully on the inside of his wrist. The blackened lines of his barcode had faint pink ones crisscrossed on top. The corner of the blond's mouth twitched as he slowly pushed the edge into his skin. He felt the top layer split, and soon the second. Only a tiny bit of blood showed up, he didn't want to make a bloody mess after all. Prompto dragged the blade down towards him, not vertically, not horizontally - no, he choose a midway, diagonally. He wasn't so stupid as to cut completely vertically, but he didn't get the endorphins he'd want if he cut horizontally. He repeated his ritual four times, until he heard someone knock on the bathroom door. In a split second he jerked his knife down, a little too deeply. With a yelp, he got up. Panic set in and the blade was dropped from his hand.

"Prom? I kinda need the bathroom- are you okay?" The King's voice sounded from behind the door. "Are you almost done?" Prompto looked down to his wrist and realised he messed up. Should he try patch himself up and hope for the best? Millions of things flooded his mind, he hadn't meant to cut this deep.

"I eh. I-" Noctis heard the panic in his voice. His friend had noticed a lot of changes in his mood lately, at first, he played it off as a joke. But granted, slowly but surely Prompto seemed to mean it - whenever they were on a hunt or doing something dangerous or risky, Prompto didn't seem to care. His behavior was almost... Self-destructive.

"Prom. What happened?" His voice was stern and serious, yet also kind and concerned.

"I think I need help," the words sounded low and soft. It didn't even take another second and Noctis had already barged in. The door swung open and the black-haired friend took two steps in before he realised what was going on.

"Oh Shiva." He mumbled under his breath and without a word, he opened his amiger and materialised a potion. He carefully wrapped his fingers around the blond's arm and lifted it up, crushing the vial over his slashed skin. None of them said another word, until the wound was closed.

"Noct, I-"

"No. I knew something was up and I'm upset you wouldn't talk to me about it." He took a deep sigh and helped Prompto on his feet. "You know we're always here for you, you can tell us anything. Why resort to this? What makes you do... this?"

Prompto's head dropped, he really didn't want to speak, but he knew they'd have the talk eventually anyway. Whether he'd want to or not.

"I can't feel anything. No emotions... I want to feel again, Noct. After everything, it's put my feelings in a shock I guess. Believe me, I've tried. But only pain makes me feel like I'm still alive." He looked at his healed wound. It became a scar, but the bleeding had stopped.

Noctis softly stroked his wrist, looking at the very barcode that defined his past, yet he didn't care. To him, it didn't matter where someone came from, it mattered where they'd go.

"Let me help you, we can sort it out. We can find a solution for this, I promise." Prompto sighed deeply, he didn't believe his friend although he really wanted to. "We'll do research. Pain doesn't necessarily mean blood or s-," he bit his lip, not wanting to say the word. "Hurting yourself," he finished and gazed away.

"... Okay." He mouthed and smiled weakly at the King. He never would've imagined the King of Lucis, helping out a low-rank scrub like him - as he usually called himself.

"You have my back and I have yours. Please, Prom." The blond nodded and wrapped his bandanna around his wrist, covering his hopefully to be just bad memories.


End file.
